Ignorance is a bliss
by Moppipoika
Summary: With the help of his best friend Scott, Stiles finally seeks help for his mental health problems after his dad gets shot. Noah has to put the investigations on freeze, and Stiles decides to lend a helping hand. Helping out with a murder investigation leads him into a world where werewolves are far more real than his best friend, and he isn't sure if he can handle it.
1. The missed calls

Stiles buried his face in his hands and let out a deep sigh. Even though practically nothing has gone according to plans during the summer, he had never expected anything like this to happen.

Much earlier, almost a whole day ago, Stiles had walked out of a movie theatre with his best friend Scott, just to find out he had gotten a ton of unanswered calls during the movie. Some of them had been from his friend Danny, but most of them had been from various unknown numbers. It was weird, and Stiles had stared at the unanswered calls from Danny with a frown; it wasn't like him to call more than once, or even call at all, he usually preferred texts.

"You should call him back," Scott had said after also checking his phone. "He's called me a few times too."

"Yeah, I guess," Stiles had mumbled, his finger ready to press _call._ His heart had been pounding in his ears so hard he had barely heard Scott speak. His hand had shaken so severely that it had been hard to read anything from his phone's screen, and pressing the damn call back -option had felt like an impossibility. He hadn't even been sure he wanted to know the reason behind all the calls. "What if something's happened?"

"Like what?" Scott had asked with a confused, yet worried look on his face.

"I don't know." Stiles had shrugged with a sigh. "Maybe something's happened to dad."

" _Or_ maybe Danny just desperately needed something from you?" Scott had suggested hopefully, and Stiles had rolled his eyes at him. "And maybe the others are just… I don't know, telemarketers?"

"Really?" Stiles had asked his face blank, not sure if he was supposed to laugh or cry at that. "You're seriously telling me that 15 telemarketers called me during the last two hours?"

"No. I'm saying there were three of them and they called you five times each," Scott had muttered, clearly understanding that wasn't something that could really happen. "Just call Danny back, he clearly needed _something_."

"You're right."

Just when Stiles had been about to hit _call_ , his phone had rung, and one of the numbers that had called him earlier popped on the screen. His heart rate had immediately shot up like he had just run a marathon, and it felt like he had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

With a shaking hand, Stiles had reluctantly brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?" His voice had been a bit weak like he had already been fighting back tears of panic.

"This is Annie from the Beacon Hills' hospital, am I speaking to M... Mie… Miec…"

"Mieczyslaw Stilinski, yeah, that's me," Stiles had said with an impatient sigh.

"Good, good." The lady had gone quiet for a while. "I'm calling about your dad."

Stiles had felt his heart break into pieces and his mouth go dry. "Wha- what about him?" he had managed to ask after a long silence.

"He's at the hospital," the lady told him lowly. "He's been shot, and he's- " after that, her voice had turned into a distant mumbling.

The phone had dropped from Stiles' grip. His sight had gone blurry. The world around him had flipped upside down and his legs had shaken so hard he almost hadn't been able to walk anymore.

"I need to get to the hospital," he had heard himself say, and before he had even realized it he had been sitting behind the wheel of his jeep, pedal against metal, heading to the hospital.

* * *

Stiles couldn't remember anything about the ride to the hospital. He only remembered hearing his dad had still been in the operating room and he hadn't been allowed in. He remembered he had felt dizzy, his head had felt heavy.

Then he remembered waking up in the bed he was sitting on now. His throat was sore and it felt like there was a hole in his heart. Tears fought their way through his blinking, but he was quick to wipe them away when the room's door opened after a quiet knocking.

"Stiles! You're awake!" Scott walked in with a happily surprised look on his face. "Took you long enough."

Stiles furrowed. "What?"

"You slept over 12 hours." Stiles stared at Scott in silence, trying to remember when he had gone to sleep or what had happened before that. "You don't remember?" Scott asked like he had read his mind. When Stiles shook his head, Scott let out a quiet sigh and made his way across the room to take a seat next to Stiles.

"You came here after they called you about your dad," Scott said lowly, his eyes filled with something that told Stiles this wasn't going to be a happy story. "Mom told you that he was still in operation and nobody knew what was gonna happen next or how long it was gonna take. Mom tried to tell you to go home but…"

"But what?" Stiles asked, his voice barely even a whisper. "But _what_ , Scott?"

"You kind of lost it."

It felt like a punch in the face. "L-lost it?"

"I don't know," Scott shrugged, glancing quickly at Stiles, "you just… lost it."

And suddenly it came back to him. He remembered not being able to breathe, he remembered he had screamed so loud even his own ears had been ringing and it had felt like his brain was going to explode.

He remembered how Melissa had told him to calm down. "Shut up!" he had screamed back, and when she had told him to calm down again he had grabbed a lamp from a nearby table and thrown it at her.

"If you hadn't passed out like you did," Scott mumbled and shook his head, "I guess they would've called the police."

Stiles remembered how he had pounded the operating room's door as hard as he possibly could, and how he had screamed he wanted to die when the nurses had grabbed him and forced him to back away from the door. He remembered vividly how the screams escaping his throat hadn't even sound humanly possible, how it had hurt like somebody had ripped the beating heart out of his chest, how he had thought he was ready to die if they wouldn't let him go see his dad.

"I- " Stiles breathed out, but there was another knock on the door.

"Stiles?" The door opened and Melissa poked her head in. "I _knew_ I heard you talking. You took a pretty long nap, don't you think?"

Stiles let out a short, emotionless laugh, lowering his gaze from Melissa. He didn't have the heart to even look at her after what he had done. She, on the other hand, didn't seem to have any problems walking up to him and taking a seat next to him on the bed.

"Do you remember what happened?" Melissa quietly asked, wrapping her arm around Stiles as she spoke.

"I didn't at first, but Scott told me," Stiles mumbled with a lazy shrug. "I'm sorry Melissa, I didn't mean to- "

"I know baby, I know." Melissa pulled him into a tight hug.

Stiles gave himself the permission to lean against her and let the silent tears roll down his cheeks. He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe that his crappy summer had ended like this; his dad getting shot and ending up in a hospital, and he having a mental breakdown because of it. He didn't know if his dad would survive, or if he was even alive anymore, and he didn't know if he could handle losing his father too.

* * *

"You ready to go?" Melissa asked with a smile after slightly opening the room's door.

"I guess," Stiles mumbled and glanced at her direction before lowering his eyes back to his dad.

After Melissa had talked with Stiles earlier that day and forced him to eat something from the cafeteria, she had let him go see his dad who still hadn't woken up; he had been shot three times, one of the bullets had almost hit some huge vein in his shoulder and the doctors didn't believe he'd wake up very soon.

Stiles got up from his seat and quickly made his way out of the room, blinking tears away. He didn't want to go, but he had promised Melissa he wouldn't stay all night at the hospital, and she had even suggested that Stiles could sleep at her place. And even though Stiles wanted nothing more than to be left alone right now, he had agreed to go, because he knew it meant Scott would be there for him if he felt like he wanted company. And since they lived right across the street from Stiles' home, it would be no problem to just sneak out and go home if he'd want to.

The ride to McCall's was filled with heavy silence. Stiles was in the back with Scott, both staring at the city roll by. On the way, they stopped for some pizzas, even though when they got to Scott's place, Stiles left his pizza untouched and simply walked up to the spare room where he threw himself on the bed.

After hours of lying on the bed with lights off, there was a knock on the door, and with a tired grunt, Stiles gave the permission to come in.

"Do you still wanna be alone?" Scott asked quietly. Stiles shook his head and Scott stepped inside, closing the door after him. "I've been thinking you know," he took a seat next to Stiles' legs, "and I think it's time for you to finally get help."

"Get help?" Stiles repeated, raising his brows.

"Yeah. You know, go see a therapist or something."

"Absolutely not," Stiles mumbled and quickly sat up. "We've been over this a hundred times, Scott. I'm not gonna go see anyone. I can manage."

"You call last night _managing_?"

"Well, I- "

"You call having constant panic attacks, hallucinations and feeling like you wanna die, _managing_?" Scott was clearly upset, and he did absolutely nothing to hide it. He stared at Stiles with such serious, dark eyes it made Stiles feel like crying. "It's time for you to get help, Stiles. I can't stand watching you feel like this."

Stiles stared into the darkness of the room. He had always managed, he had always had some kind of control over his problems, but he knew things had gotten worse during the summer. He had spent most of the time home feeling like a pile of shit because of no reason while his friends had done practically everything a person their age could dream of doing during the summer break. His hallucinations had gotten more recent, and his nightmares scarier than ever.

Scott was right. He couldn't go on like this anymore, and last night was just more proof of it. But even thinking about asking for help made him feel like even more of a failure. And it felt scary. He knew what Eichen House was like and how they treated people there, and he just _knew_ he'd end up there if he told someone about the hallucinations.

"Stiles," Scott's voice was almost desperate, "you _can't_ go on like this."

"I know, I know. You're right." Stiles let out a tired sigh. "I have to get help."


	2. The Nightmare

**_|| AUTHOR'S NOTES - so, uh, I realized i forgot to inform you all about the fact that in this one Scott's human snd Derek's the alpha, which will probably clear things out for you a bit. Anyway, thanks for the comments 3 ||_**

 _Phone's ringing woke Stiles up. The screen was too bright to look at without squinting. It was only half past three, and the caller wasn't anyone he knew._

 _"Hello?" he answered, his voice still hoarse from sleeping. It was the lady from the hospital calling again. "How's my dad?" he asked before the lady had finished introducing herself. "Is he okay? Has he woken up yet?" As he spoke, he got up from the bed, his heart filled with worry. All he wanted was to hear some good news. Like really, really good news. Something like 'don't worry, your dad survived.'_

 _"I'm sorry dear," the lady said quietly, and Stiles' legs almost gave up. "Your father passed away a couple hours ago."_

 _"Wha- no…" The room began to spin around him. "No no no no. It can't be. He can't be… "_

 _"I'm so sorry for your loss."_

"Stiles!"

Stiles woke up screaming, his t-shirt wet from sweating. He screamed until there was no air left, until his throat was sore and his voice faded into an inaudible whisper, and only then did he realize he was finally awake. It had been a dream. Just a dream. Just another damn nightmare.

"You okay?" Scott was crouched next to the bed with a remarkably worried expression on his face.

Stiles' eyes scanned the room, trying to take in the fact he wasn't sleeping anymore, but wide awake in McCall's spare room with his best friend by his side. "Yeah," he breathed out, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Nightmares again?"

"Vivid ones." Stiles nodded. "You know, the ones where everything feels real and you can't tell that it's a dream, and even after waking up you have to think if it was true or not."

Scott shifted from the floor onto the bed, getting more and more worried by the second. "It was a dream, Stiles," he said sternly. "Just a dream."

Stiles nodded. He knew it was. It had just felt so _real._ Even now that he had shaken off the worst shock and properly woken up, it still felt more like a memory than a dream. He closed his eyes and buried his fingers in his hair, giving it a quite rough shuffle like it was going to help him organize his thoughts.

"Stiles." Scott's voice made Stiles open his eyes to see his friend holding out his phone. "Someone's called you."

Stiles' heart skipped a beat. There was a notification of a missed call on the bright screen, just like Scott had told him. The call was, like in the dream, from an unknown caller. Suddenly his mouth was dry and his hand shaking as he slowly reached for his phone. The nightmare was slowly turning into reality and he didn't like it one bit. When the phone all of a sudden started ringing, the loud music managed to scare both of the boys so bad that Stiles almost fell out of bed and Scott nearly dropped the phone.

"It's my mom," Scott said after getting a proper grip of the phone again, clearly surprised by the caller's identity.

Stiles wasn't ready to hear the reason behind Melissa's call, but he snatched the phone from Scott anyway. "Melissa?" he asked as he pressed the phone to his ear. "What's wrong? Is something wrong?"

"What? Nothing's wrong," Melissa answered, sounding a bit confused, but she seemed to recover pretty quickly from that as she continued: "Take a deep breath honey, I've got news for you." Stiles did as he was told to; four seconds inhaling, eight seconds exhaling. He was nervous, scared even, and he definitely wasn't ready for any kind of news. "Your dad just woke up."

"Oh my god, I'll never get over- " Stiles cut himself off as he realized Melissa had told him _good_ news instead of the bad ones he had been expecting. "Wait, really?"

"Really." Stiles could hear Melissa was smiling. "And he can't wait to see you."

When Stiles put his phone down on the bed, he took another deep breath like Melissa had told him to do before hanging up, and buried his face in his hands. He had been so sure he'd get bad news, he had been sure he'd lose his father too. He had been expecting bad news so badly that now the good news felt shockingly overwhelming and he didn't know how to deal with his feelings.

"Stiles?" Scott's voice was only a whisper. Stiles felt him move a bit closer. "What did she say?"

Stiles took a few shivering breaths before wiping a couple of tears rolling down his cheeks away. "She uh… my dad just woke up," he said as he let his hands fall onto his lap, and raised his eyes to Scott, whose expression had changed from extremely worried to the happiest Stiles had ever seen him.

"That's great! That's awesome! You wanna go to the hospital right away?"

"No, I'd prefer to sit here and wait weeks, and possibly months, for my dad to get out of the hospital," Stiles said rolling his eyes as he got up from the bed. "Of course I wanna go!"

* * *

"Where is he?" Stiles yelled as he ran through the hospital's main doors, only stopping when he bumped into the reception desk. He rested his head against the cool surface of it, pretty sure of the fact that if he'd take one more step he'd pass out. " _God_ I really need to start working out."

Melissa chuckled behind the counter, giving Stiles a warm smile when he finally lifted his head again. "A little muscle wouldn't hurt you," she joked with a grin. "Come, I'll show you his room."

Stiles followed Melissa all the way up to the fourth floor, feeling more and more nervous the higher they got. When the elevator doors finally opened, Stiles wasn't sure if he was going to be able to walk out of it. His legs felt weak and his heart was pounding so fast he thought it alone would cause him a panic attack. The nightmare was still haunting in his memory, making him go over the most horrible things that could happen when they'd enter his dad's room. What if they'd find him dead? What if the doctors would be there, telling them that Noah would never heal enough to get out of the hospital? What if something far worse had come up? Like cancer, or dementia, or really bad internal bleeding, or-

"Stiles?" Melissa's voice brought Stiles back from his racing thoughts and he realized they were standing in front of a door. Behind it, he would find his dad, and if nothing had suddenly gone wrong, he'd find his dad alive and kicking. "You okay?" Melissa asked with an expression so worried it gave Stiles' heart a little sting.

"Yeah," Stiles said as he nodded and gave her an unconvincing smile. "I just… He's actually okay?"

Melissa seemed a bit confused. She turned to Stiles, crossing her arms. "What do you mean _actually_ okay?"

"I mean that is he okay, and is he gonna stay that way?" Stiles knew he was probably just worrying too much, making mountains out of molehills again, but he couldn't help it. It was like every time something even minorly inconvenient happened a voice appeared in his head, telling him that everything's going to fall apart and things would never get better again. Ever since his dad had gotten into the hospital the voice had been constantly screaming at him, telling him he was eventually going to lose everyone he loved and cared about, starting with his dad. Usually, he knew the voice was wrong, but after hours of listening to it screaming him how he was going to end up alone in the world, its words had started to make sense.

"We've examined everything," Melissa told him with a serious look on her face, her brown eyes locked into Stiles' darker ones. "You're not gonna lose him." She knocked on the door before pushing it open.

As soon as Stiles saw his dad, he felt all the weight being lifted from his shoulders. "Dad!" He launched himself across to room to wrap his arms around Noah, remembering he had been shot only when he let out a quiet whine. "Oh- oh my god I'm so sorry I totally forgot!" Stiles quickly retrieved from the hug.

"You forgot I was shot?" Noah asked with a laugh and a highly amused look on his face as he rubbed his left shoulder.

"Yeah! I mean no, of course I didn't, I just- " Stiles let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. "I'm just happy to see you."

Noah gave him a warm smile. "Me too."

The next forty-five minutes they spent talking about the case Noah had been investigating before he had gotten shot. Stiles wanted to know everything about the case, and he really meant everything. As his father went on with his story, Stiles paused him to ask questions and specified details like he was trying to solve the case himself. Being the sheriff's kid was exactly what he needed in life; he always knew when something exciting or intriguing was happening, and listening to his dad talk about the cases really gave his inner curious, adventurous little kid the satisfaction it craved for.

"So what you're saying is you think some wild animal is on a killing spree, you tried tracking it down and ended up being shot at?" Stiles asked with a confused frown, having huge troubles fully understanding what his father was trying to tell him.

"What I'm saying is we thought we'd find a mountain lion or something, but we found five armed men instead," Noah said, letting out a tired sigh afterward. "You know what, I'm way too tired to think about it now. I'll figure it out once I'll get out of here."

"I could go over the reports and- "

"If you even _think_ about going to the station, I swear to god I'm gonna ground you until you graduate," Noah threatened with a look so ominous Stiles could almost believe he was being serious. Just almost. Too bad he had been threatened with years of grounding so many times over the years he already knew his dad would probably ground him for a few days, if he'd even ground him at all.

"Okay," Stiles simply said with a shrug.

"I'm serious Stiles."

"I know."

There was a knock on the door, and a short nurse with thick glasses walked in, giving them a wide smile. "It's time for your medication, Mr. Stilinski," she informed perkily as she walked over to hand Noah a small cup with a few pills inside of it. After Noah had taken the medication, she turned to Stiles with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but your dad needs rest."

"It's okay," Stiles said with a smile as he got up from his chair. He did want to stay with his dad but after the conversation about the ongoing case of mysterious deaths, he had something more important to do than sit there and watch his dad sleep. "I have things to do anyway."

"Stay out of the sheriff's station kid," Noah mumbled with a frown, seeming to be pretty out of it already.

"Yeah yeah," Stiles muttered with an eye-roll, "see you dad." He ran out of the room, almost screaming from joy when he found Scott sitting on one of the chairs in the hallway. "Get up Scott," Stiles said with an excited smile, "we're going to the sheriff's station."


	3. The witness

Stiles' eyes were scanning through pages and pages of reports in such a rapid pace he was pretty sure he had never read anything that fast in his life, which just proved that every adult ever was absolutely right when they told him he'd be an A+ student if he just had the same amount of interest towards school as he did towards his dad's job. But he didn't, so he simply had to do things like break into the sheriff's station to read through his dad's reports and try to solve the cases himself to keep himself happy and satisfied.

"Did you talk to your dad yet?" Scott asked, pointing his flashlight at Stiles.

"Could you please stop blinding me with the damn light?" Stiles huffed as he raised his hand to cover his eyes. "Yeah, we talked," he mumbled when Scott lowered the light.

"About the thing?" Scott was staring at Stiles intensively, and Stiles already knew he wouldn't give up on the subject easily.

"What thing?" Stiles asked, pretending to be oblivious to what his friend was talking about when in reality he knew damn well what the thing Scott was referring to was.

"You know," Scott furrowed, " _the thing."_

"If you're talking about what we talked about before I went to the hospital, then no," Stiles answered, trying to look like he was busy reading some article his dad had saved from last month when in reality he had read through it three times already. "If you're talking about something else, then I have no idea what you're talking about." He flashed a smile at Scott, who just rolled his eyes at him.

"You _have_ to tell him, Stiles."

"And I will, Scott. But don't ask me when, because I don't know!" But he did know; he was going to wait until his dad gets out of the hospital, and he knew Scott wouldn't agree with it being a good idea. So he was simply not going to keep the idea to himself.

Stiles thanked the gods when Scott decided to drop the subject and they could finally concentrate on the papers again. Even after hours of reading it didn't make any sense to him. There had been three murders within the last two months, all of them were kind of the same but not exactly, and the doctors couldn't tell anything else than that it looked like an animal had killed them all. The first murder had been a month ago, and the second two had been exactly a month after that.

"Scott," Stiles said with a frown as he found an extremely surprising detail he knew he couldn't have even thought about in his wildest dreams. His frown deepened when he got no answer from Scott, and he raised his gaze from the paper in his hand to his friend and pointed his flashlight at him. "Scott!" He reached out to give his slouching friend a gentle push to get his attention.

"Huh? What?"

Stiles smirked, shifting to sit a bit closer to Scott. "Look," he said as he held out the paper he had been reading, "this says that all the bodies were found by the same person."

Scott leaned closer with a frown of his own, his eyes scanning through the text to find what Stiles was talking about. After a while he raised his eyes to Stiles, seemingly surprised by what he had read. "Lydia?"

Stiles nodded. "Lydia."

* * *

Stiles walked through the school doors with Scott by his side, so full of energy his whole body was shaking. He had made copies of every single paper he had gotten in his hands last night, and spent the rest of the night reading through them which meant he hadn't slept for a second. There had been a point where he had put the papers away and tried to go to sleep, but after tossing and turning for a good thirty minutes he had decided to just say fuck it and go back to reading.

The whole thing just didn't make any sense to him. He could've accepted animal attacks, but the fact that there had been only three deaths and exactly a month had been between them made it hard to believe for him. Why would an animal wait a month to kill someone again? Or maybe it was a different animal; the same species of course because the marks on the bodies were the same, just different individuals. Stiles nodded to himself, that made a bit more sense to him. It was still weird though, and the fact that his longtime crush had been the one to find the bodies didn't make the case any less interesting to him, no, it just added to the curiosity and the need to solve it.

"It's weird," Stiles mumbled as he opened his locker door to take the books he needed on the next period.

"What's weird?" Scott asked with a raised brow, leaning a bit closer so they wouldn't have to talk so loudly.

"Lydia's not a suspect," Stiles whispered. He closed his locker and leaned his back against it, letting out a tired sigh. "I mean I get it, she definitely didn't kill them 'cause she doesn't exactly have the claws or the teeth of a mountain lion, but dad _always_ makes people suspects if they're connected to more than two crime scenes."

"Well maybe he didn't this time because the bodies were full of scratches and bite marks," Scott said sternly, clearly hoping they wouldn't have to talk about the subject anymore. Even though Stiles always managed to lure Scott into stupid things like breaking into the sheriff's station in the middle of the night to solve a murder case like they did last night, Scott never really got as excited about their little adventures as Stiles.

"I know," Stiles huffed with an annoyed frown on his face. He hated situations like this; something terrible had happened and there was no one to blame for it. There weren't even any clues to guide them closer to the solution. He knew he should just accept the mountain lion theory like everyone at the station apparently did, but for some reason, he just _couldn't._ His mind simply wouldn't agree on something like a mountain lion killing a couple of people every four weeks; it just didn't make any sense.

There had to be more to it. There had to be a reason why there were exactly four weeks between the deaths. And there had to be a reason why Lydia had found all of the bodies. Stiles didn't know if his dad had just missed it or if he didn't think it as anything special, but to Stiles it seemed a bit off how in Lydia's statement she had, in all of the cases, told them how she had been driving somewhere, when suddenly she had realized she had no idea where she was and after getting out of the car she had found a mangled body.

Nobody just didn't know where they were, it wasn't normal. Well, it was if they were lost or in a town they had never been to before, but Lydia had lived in Beacon Hills all her life so it simply wasn't possible for her to get lost in there. And of course, if somebody had issues with their mental health they could get lost or suddenly realize they had no idea where they were and why, but there weren't any mentions about mental health problems in Lydia's files, and that kind of problems were pretty hard to hide from everyone according to Stiles' personal experience.

"Can't you just, you know, let your dad handle this?" Scott asked as they walked towards chemistry class, and it was a huge shock to Stiles that he even asked something like that; Scott of all people should've known Stiles simply couldn't drop it and let his dad handle it.

"It's like you don't know me at all," Stiles laughed right before they arrived at the classroom's door. A huge grin made its way to Stiles' lips as he realized one of the few free seats was next to Lydia. "See you after class," he mumbled to Scott before practically running across the classroom so he could reach the seat before anyone else would. "Hi, Lydia."

Lydia's head snapped up when she heard Stiles' words, and slowly she turned to look at him. "Hi," she said in a bit of a confused manner, clearly surprised that Stiles sat next to her and actually talked to her. It wasn't that they had never talked or anything, they just weren't friends even though they had known each other since elementary school. Lydia quickly raised her hand up when Stiles was about to say something again. "The teacher's here," she said before turning her attention to the teacher that had appeared in the room.

Stiles bit his lower lip, turning to the teacher as well. He was definitely not going to give up so easily, so after a few minutes, he turned back to the strawberry blonde next to him. "I never study anyway," he said with a laugh, but when Lydia turned to look at him with the most murderous look he had ever seen he didn't feel like laughing at all anymore. "But you do, so I'll just leave you to it."

But he couldn't. He just couldn't, no matter how badly he would've wanted to. Maybe the problem was that he didn't really even want to. He had so many unanswered questions that he simply couldn't let her be. "You know what," he said, once again turning to Lydia, "I'm not gonna leave you alone."

"Well you definitely should, considering your grades," Lydia noted matter-of-factly, not even bothering to look at him.

"How do you even know- " Stiles cut himself off with a frown. "You know what, it doesn't even matter now because I need to know if you have some kind of mental health issues."

"What?" Lydia's head snapped up and her furious eyes turned to Stiles.

"You know, any depression? Anxiety? Psychotic tendencies?" Stiles listed, leaning a bit closer to Lydia as he spoke. "Something that would explain how you randomly found _three bodies_."

Lydia stared at him with fire in her eyes, and he knew he had fucked it up already. "You know what Stiles?" she said coldly, closing her books so loud that everyone in the room went silent, and every pair of eyes turned to stare at them including the teacher. "I've had enough with you." And with that she left Stiles to sit alone, everyone in the classroom still staring at him with wide eyes.


	4. The threat

So, talking to Lydia hadn't gone exactly like Stiles had hoped, but he wasn't going to let a little setback slow him down. He had decided to skip economy to, once again, go through his dad's reports so he could maybe find a better way to talk to Lydia. It had become clear to him that asking about someone's mental health wasn't exactly the best conversation starter, so he had to find something else he could use to get her to talk to him.

After the bells rang as a mark for the period to end, Stiles stuffed the papers in his hand back to his bag, scanning the hallway to find Lydia. And bingo, the strawberry blonde he was looking for walked out of a classroom just before the hallway started to become filled with extremely loud teenagers, and Stiles managed to make his way to Lydia before the hallway got too crowded.

"Hi Lydia," Stiles said with a smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

"Leave me alone Stiles," she sighed, not bothering to turn to him as she spoke.

"But I can't," Stiles said sternly. He wasn't going to give up; if he wanted to solve the case, he needed answers. "You're the key to solving this case."

They stopped at Lydia's locker where she finally gave her full attention to Stiles, turning to look at him with an extremely fed up expression on her face. "Do you have dementia?" she asked and her lips curved into an awfully cute smile.

"No?" Stiles slowly said, furrowing his brows in a confused manner.

"Then you should remember what I said at chemistry," Lydia said, the sweet smile still on her lips, causing Stiles troubles concentrating. When Stiles couldn't answer from admiring Lydia's smile, she let out a frustrated sigh. "Stiles! I told you I'm done with you, so why are you here again?"

"Well you didn't tell me not to talk to you," Stiles said and flashed a smile at her. "Seriously, Lydia, I'm trying to solve a murder case and- "

"Isn't your father the one who should be investigating the murders, since you know, _he's_ the sheriff?" Stiles opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind was blank, and he realized he was in a rare situation where he couldn't come up with any kind of a comeback. "Now leave me alone."

"But Lydia, you have to understand I can't- "

Stiles was cut off when all of a sudden a tall guy appeared from somewhere, leaned against the lockers between Stiles and Lydia, and stared at him with a dark expression. "She told you to leave her alone," the guy said, and even though there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, his voice was cold as ice.

Stiles squinted at the guy. The curly hair and the blue eyes felt familiar even though Stiles was pretty sure he had never met the guy before.

"Isaac," Lydia mumbled quietly, placing her hand on the guy's shoulder, "it's okay."

Isaac... That's it. It was Isaac Lahey. Noah had worked on a case, it was probably a few years ago, when Isaac's father had been murdered, and Stiles had seen Isaac at the station because they had held him as a suspect. "I know she said that I'm not deaf," Stiles said with an awkward laugh, trying to ignore the deadly look Isaac was giving him. "Now if you excuse me, I _really_ need to ask her something," he said as he tried to push past Isaac to get back to Lydia.

"She told you to _leave her alone_ ," Isaac growled lowly through gritted teeth. He grabbed Stiles' collar and pushed him against the lockers with a bang, leaning so close to Stiles he could feel his breath. Stiles' heart was pounding in his ears and his legs were shaking so badly he was convinced he wouldn't have managed to stay on his feet without Isaac pushing him against the lockers.

"I will, I will, just please don't kiss me or anything 'cause I don't really swing that way," Stiles mumbled even though he knew it was a bad idea before even saying it; he simply was like that and couldn't help himself. It was like there was something that always forced him to say and do the stupidest, most inconvenient things in situations where doing so was guaranteed to put him in even more trouble.

And, of course, that was what happened this time too; Isaac pushed him against the lockers a bit harder and lifted his collar so that he had to get up on his toes. A quiet growl could be heard from Isaac, and for a split second Stiles thought the guy's eyes turned golden brown, but it was probably only because of the hallway lights.

"Isaac, stop," Lydia said sternly and took a step closer to them. " _Right_ _now_." For a short moment, Isaac stared into Stiles' eyes, looking a bit like he wanted to rip him into pieces before letting go of his shirt and simply walking away.

"Stiles, I'm serious," Lydia said quietly, her voice a bit softer than earlier, "just let your dad handle it."

With that, she left too, leaving Stiles standing there feeling extremely small and vulnerable. And stupid. Especially stupid. And still, no matter how crossly Isaac had looked at him, or how many times Lydia was going to tell him not to, he was going to keep on investigating the case.

The rest of the school day was at least weird, a bit scary even when he really thought about it. It felt like no matter where he went or where looked at, Isaac was always there staring at him with an angry expression on his face. He had an extremely bad feeling about the guy, just like when they had been investigating Isaac's father's murder; he hadn't like the guy then, still didn't, and probably never would.

"I don't know, Scott," Stiles mumbled as he sat down behind the wheel of his jeep. He rested his forehead against the wheel with a tired sigh. "I wanna help dad with the case, but I can't without knowing why Lydia keeps finding the bodies."

"Does it really matter who finds them?" Scott asked, not even trying to hide how bored he was by the subject when he dug out his phone to play Angry Birds.

"Wha- Does it- _Of course_ it does!" Stiles groaned in frustration. "Are you seriously saying that it means _nothing_ that the same person found _all_ the bodies?"

"But it's Lydia we're talking about, Stiles."

Stiles let out another sigh. Of course he knew they were talking about Lydia, and it was confusing the hell out of him. He had had a crush on her since third grade, and now he was trying to solve a murder case where everything was indicating that she was a serial killer who only murdered people during the full moon by savaging them severely. Lydia couldn't be the killer, it just wasn't possible.

"I have to figure out how to talk to her without Isaac appearing from somewhere to threaten me," Stiles mumbled as he started the jeep. "Maybe if I- "

"You're not gonna sneak into her room in the middle of the night!" Scott cut him off, throwing him a deadly glare.

And even though Scott told him not to, that was exactly what Stiles did. But instead of doing it in the middle of the night, he snuck into Lydia's room at late evening right after she had taken a shower. At the same moment when Lydia walked back into her room with nothing but a towel around her, Stiles sneaked in through the window, which ended up with them both letting out a high pitched scream as they managed to scare each other.

"Oh, oh god, oh my, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, oh god I didn't know," Stiles went on as he turned his back to her, covering his eyes for safety's sake. Even though it was like a dream come true, having Lydia half-naked in the same room with him, he kept his eyes shut tight; he still needed to talk to her.

"What the hell are you doing here, Stiles?"

Stiles couldn't really tell if Lydia was mad, amused, or a little bit of both. "I really needed to talk to you," he said with a shrug. "And believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't crucial."

Lydia let out a deep sigh, and Stiles heard her close the room's door. "Fine, just make it quick."

"Wait, _really_ ?"

"If you're anything like you used to be, I know you're not gonna leave me alone anyway, so, we might just get it over with," Lydia mumbled as she sat down on her bed. "Sit."

"Like… like on the bed?" Stiles stuttered as he lowered his hands from his eyes.

"Yes, Stiles, on the bed," Lydia muttered with an overdramatic eye-roll. Stiles nodded and stared at the huge bed suspiciously for a moment before taking a seat on it next to Lydia. "So, what's so important you had to climb into my room this late?" she asked with the sweet smile she always had on her lips, and even though Stiles wasn't sure if it was a sarcastic or a genuine one he absolutely loved it.

"How did you find the bodies?"

"You came here to ask about the bodies?" Stiles nodded, and Lydia let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "I already told your dad: I was driving around and suddenly I realized I wasn't where I was supposed to be, and then I found a body."

"You were just… driving around?" Stiles furrowed; he still couldn't believe it. Something like that just didn't happen three times in a row.

Lydia shrugged, her smile fading a bit. "I remember that I suddenly got this… feeling," she said, now staring at her lap. "It was like something forced me to go where I did, and right before I stopped I felt like… Like I was going to explode if I didn't."

"It was the same every time?" Stiles asked with a confused frown. Was she some kind of a psychic? It didn't sound exactly normal to get feelings like that, not that he was exactly an expert on what was normal and what wasn't, but _this_ certainly wasn't.

"Yeah," Lydia said with a careless shrug like it was an everyday thing for people to happen. "Do you need something else? I'm tired and there's no way I'm going to sleep before I see you drive away."

"Do you have an abnormally large dog?" Stiles asked, feeling almost hopeless. He hadn't found out anything he hadn't already read about from his father's files, and now he was even more confused and lost than before talking to Lydia.

"Goodnight, Stiles," Lydia said, rolling her eyes, and Stiles took it as a sign for him to leave.

With his other leg out the window already, Stiles turned to Lydia: "Oh, one more thing," he said with a smile, "please tell Isaac to never talk to me again, he and his pretty blue eyes scare the shit out of me."


	5. The cry for help

Stiles didn't get it. He just didn't get it. None of it made sense and to say it mildly, it scared the crap out of him. Lydia was definitely connected to the murders, but he still didn't know how. He just knew it had to be more than randomly finding the bodies.

Isaac was Lydia's friend, which was new to Stiles, and since Isaac had acted like a pile of dicks, he had decided Isaac definitely had something to with Lydia finding the bodies. It was also because Isaac had clearly tried to protect Lydia from Stiles or to keep her from talking about the case with him, which usually meant they had something to do with the case. He had to get more information from Lydia, but he had no idea how.

He was also worried about the fact that the killer was still on the loose and it had almost been a month since the last murders; if the killer was still going to kill and actually stay on the pattern of killing every thirty days. In addition to that, Stiles had started to think it wasn't the only pattern. At the first time there had been only one victim, and the second time there had been two. What if next time there was going to be three deaths?

Stiles closed the fridge door for the third time without taking anything. He was hungry, but apparently not hungry enough to eat which was weird since usually, he felt like he could be constantly eating. It was probably because of the stress; he was supposed to go see his dad soon, and for some reason, he was afraid he'd find him dead or something. It was a stupid and a childish thing to fear, but he couldn't help himself; the voice was still there, telling him his dad was going to die.

With a deep sigh, Stiles grabbed his jacket when he heard a car pull up at the driveway. He made his way out of the house and into Melissa's car, where she greeted him with a wide smile. When Stiles couldn't answer with anything else than a weak smile, Melissa's smile faded, and a worried expression replaced it.

"What's wrong honey?" she asked, glancing in the mirror at him.

"Huh?" Stiles raised his gaze from his lap. "Yeah, just worried."

"About your father?"

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled, shifting his gaze out the window. Of course he was worried about his father, so worried he was sure his heart was going to stop anytime soon because of all the stress his father's situation caused him. "I just can't stop thinking that he's suddenly gonna die," he said quietly as he leaned his forehead against the window.

"Oh, sweetie, he's not going to- "

"I know, I know," Stiles hurried to cut her off, "it's just… I know it, I just can't believe it." He turned to look at Scott in the front seat at the same time as Scott turned to look at him, and for a while, they stared at each other in silence. When Scott suddenly tried to whisper him something, he tilted his head a bit with a frown.

"Tell her," Scott said a bit louder, so Stiles could hear him.

Stiles' eyes widened; he couldn't. He hadn't even thought about telling Melissa about it all. He knew his father had told Melissa some things but letting her know _all of it_ felt like an awful idea. What if she'd hate him afterward? What if she'd forbid Scott from seeing him anymore after discovering what a nut job he was? He wouldn't survive something like that, not in a million years.

"You promised, remember?"

Stiles buried his face in his hands like it would make Scott go away. He didn't want to talk about it, not with Scott and definitely not with Melissa. But then again, Melissa was a nurse, she had probably seen people in a lot worse condition than Stiles. And she had never said anything about the problems she knew Stiles had. Actually, all she had ever done was make sure he was alright. Maybe telling Melissa wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

"You _have to_ tell her, Stiles."

"I know, and I will!" Stiles said sharply as he raised his head from his hands.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" Melissa asked, her worried eyes staring at Stiles in the mirror again. "Do we need to stop?" Stiles hardly managed to give her a small nod as an answer, but it was enough for her to pull up at the side of the road and turn the car off. "Do you want me to come back there with you?" she asked quietly as she shifted in her seat so that she could see Stiles properly.

"No, no, it's easier this way," Stiles mumbled quickly, staring at his lap so he wouldn't have to face Melissa. "I need to talk about something. I was gonna talk to dad first but since you're a nurse I guess I should talk to you first."

"Stiles, sweetie, take a deep breath," Melissa instructed him with a faint smile, and Stiles did as he was told to. "Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

Stiles felt his heartbeat rise. His hands were sweating and his whole body shaking. He wasn't ready for this, not ready at all, but he needed to get it done because having this talk with his father would only be a hundred times harder. It just came so fast, he hadn't prepared himself for this. He had no idea what to say and what not to; was he supposed to tell her _everything_? Or was he supposed to pick out the most important, dramatic things and keep it simple?

He needed air. His head was starting to get dizzy. He was desperately trying to open his seat belt, but his fingers were stiff and didn't cooperate with him like he wanted. He needed to get out, he needed to get out right now. Finally, a quiet click and Stiles was able to launch himself out of the car. With trembling legs, he leaned his back against the car after slamming the door shut, breathing in short, painful gasps.

Melissa got out of the car, too, slowly walking towards Stiles. "Stiles, it's okay, just breathe," she said slowly, but Stiles recognized the hint of panic in her voice.

He needed to get it out of him, he needed to say something. "I see things!" he desperately cried out just before Melissa placed her hand on his shoulder, and the look on her face was at least surprised. "And- and sometimes I hear things nobody else does, and I have these _horrible_ nightmares where everyone keeps dying," he went on, speaking so quickly he barely managed to keep up with it himself. "And there's this voice in my head, constantly screaming these horrible things at me."

Melissa stared at him with tears in her eyes, and without a word, she pulled him into a tight, loving hug. Suddenly there were tears rolling down Stiles' cheeks, too, and Melissa's hands were gently rubbing his upper back. "It's okay, honey," she whispered after a quiet sniffle, "it's all gonna be okay."

Stiles wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her tightly, savoring her warmth and the feeling of safety her tight hug gave him. "I don't know how I'm gonna tell my dad," he whispered, leaning closer to Melissa.

"He doesn't know?"

"Not everything," Stiles admitted, and Melissa took a step back to look at him with worried eyes. "And I haven't told him that I've thought about going to a therapist. I mean I didn't think about it, but Scott's been telling me I should for years and after what happened when dad got shot… well, you know, I don't think I have a choice anymore."

"Oh, honey," Melissa said with a faint smile as she gently placed her hands on Stiles' cheeks and wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "Your dad only wants what's best for you, and he'd have to be pretty stupid to not realize you need help."

"Yeah, I guess," Stiles mumbled with a shrug. "You know, Melissa, I was uh… I was thinking that maybe you could, uh, you know… maybe you could help me find someone good?"

Melissa let out a short laugh and placed a peck on Stiles' forehead. "Of course I can," she said with a smile. After that, they got back in the car where Scott had moved from the front to the back, and he greeted Stiles with a wide smile.

"Proud of you, buddy," Scott said with a grin, leaning over to nudge Stiles gently.

"Yeah, thanks for sitting in the car and not helping me out in a hard place," Stiles sneered as he crossed his arms and stared at his friend with squinted, judgmental eyes.

"I figured you should survive it yourself," Scott said and shrugged slightly. "I won't be there with you when you're talking to a therapist. Or even when you tell your dad."

Stiles rolled his eyes at Scott but accepted his explanation for abandoning him like that. "I know," he mumbled with a sigh. "Trust me, I know."


	6. The dithering

"Stiles?"

Stiles woke up to the sound of his father speaking and opened his eyes to see Noah sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with a serious look on his face. Quicker than the speed of light, Stiles stuffed the police reports in his hand into his bag so his dad wouldn't have a chance to see them.

"What?" Stiles asked as he straightened up in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Stiles' frowned feeling slightly confused; had he really fallen asleep in the most uncomfortable chair he had ever sat on? Really? Stiles knew he could sleep pretty much anywhere if he was tired enough, but the wooden chair in his dad's hospital room?

"I just remembered," Noah said slowly as he crossed his arms, "somebody had broken into the sheriff's station a couple nights ago. You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"

"What?" Stiles asked and let out a laugh a bit too awkward even to his own taste. "You know, if I hadn't been at home sleeping I'd probably know something, but since I was, I don't know anything."

Noah gave him a smile; a smile Stiles had seen a million times before. It was a smile that told him Noah already knew about everything, and he was just asking to check if Stiles would tell him the truth. The game was already over, and Stiles had walked straight into the trap. Well, it was more like he had fallen asleep and his father had only had to gently place the trap under him, but it was kind of the same.

"Give me the papers," Noah ordered as he held out his hand, and with a defeated sigh, Stiles did as he was told to and handed the reports to his father. "And now the copies," Noah said with an unamused smile on his lips.

"I don't have any copies," Stiles said quickly, staring at his father in shock like he couldn't believe what he had just heard. But it was a lie; there was a set of copies inside his bag just in case if something like this happened. Of course he hadn't thought his father would understand to ask for the copies too.

"Stiles", Noah said sternly, still holding out his hand, waiting for the papers.

For a moment Stiles kept acting like he had no idea what his father was talking about, but eventually, he gave up with an annoyed eye-roll and dug out the copies from his bag and handed them to his father. But little did his father know, he had also printed out a set for Scott. It wasn't because Stiles thought Scott would read it, but Stiles knew he could trust Scott to keep the papers safe for him.

"I thought we agreed that you'll stay away from the station," Noah said as he put the papers on the little desk by his bed. He slowly laid down on the bed, constantly having a grimace of pain on his face as he moved, and let out a deep sigh when he finally managed to position himself comfortably.

Watching Noah struggle with something as simple as laying down made Stiles' heart sting. If it would've been possible, he would've taken all the pain from his father and suffered it himself so Noah could continue his life normally. The pain wouldn't bother Stiles; he was used to living with all kinds of pain, and some troubles walking or laying down would've been nothing compared to everything he had experienced during his short life.

"I just wanted to help," Stiles muttered, picking at his fingernails.

"There are other ways to help than breaking into the sheriff's station, Stiles," Noah told him with a frustrated sigh, and Stiles could hear how fed up he was. Stiles was pretty sure Noah had expected him to do something like this, and Stiles had known his dad would get to know about it at some point, but Noah's tone still managed to sound a bit too angry and cold to Stiles' liking.

"You have to stop doing this," Noah soon said. "Don't you remember what happened two years ago?"

Stiles quietly hummed as an answer, unable to open his mouth. He didn't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it.

"We don't want that to happen again, now do we?"

Stiles remained silent, his eyes glued to his feet at this point. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to. He couldn't.

"Do we, Stiles?" Noah asked again, his voice a bit louder and demanding an answer, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to say anything. His mouth didn't open. He didn't want to talk about it. "Stiles!"

A couple of silent tears rolled down Stiles' cheeks as he violently shook his head. They did not. They did not want it to happen again, ever. "No," he managed to whisper.

"That's right, we don't." Noah's voice seemed to come from miles away.

Just as Stiles' breathing became shallow, and he knew an anxiety attack was storming in, Scott stomped into the room and straight to Stiles. "Stiles," Scott said quietly as he crouched in front of Stiles, and gently grabbed Stiles by the shoulders. "It's okay," he locked his eyes with Stiles' as he spoke, "just breathe."

Stiles forced himself to take a deep breath while staring into Scott's brown eyes. He needed to calm down, he didn't want to cause a scene because god he hated to be the center of attention, especially if it was because of something negative like his anxiety. He took another deep breath, a little bit easier this time.

"In… And out… In… And out… " Scott's voice calmly guided him until his heart calmed down and his head was cleared of the clouds of anxiety. "Attaboy," Scott said with a short, quiet chuckle as he patted Stiles' right shoulder just a tad too hard like he always did.

It was amazing how easily Scott could always calm him down and bring him back even from the worst panic attacks. Once, Scott had even talked him out of a hallucination, and Stiles still had no idea how that could've been possible. It wasn't supposed to be, but it had still happened, and Stiles simply knew that no one he'd ever meet would have such a great impact on his life; Scott was one of a kind and there weren't enough words in the world for Stiles to let Scott know how much he actually appreciated their friendship and how thankful he actually was for everything.

"Thanks," Stiles mumbled, wanting to wrap his hands around Scott, but his hands felt like they weighed a ton.

"It's okay buddy," Scott told him with an encouraging smile on his lips. "You should probably lay down for a bit."

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good idea," he mumbled as he slowly got up from the chair with the help of Scott.

As they started making their way to the door, Noah lifted his eyes from the report papers he had taken from Stiles. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Stiles turned to his dad with a tired sigh, not really wanting to talk to him. "I need to lay down for a bit, so I'm gonna fetch Melissa and ask for a bed," he told, trying his best at sounding like he was way too tired to stand there and have a talk with his father, which he was, but he wasn't always the best at letting people know how he was feeling. Like now, when he actually hoped his father would understand the tone of voice he was using rather than just simply using words to tell him how he felt.

"I'll see you later, then," Noah said with half a smile before going back to the papers. Maybe he had understood Stiles' tone, maybe it showed from his face or maybe Noah just didn't have the energy or interest to ask more questions, either way, Stiles was happy about the fact that he didn't have to talk anymore.

* * *

Stiles had tossed and turned on the uncomfortable hospital bed for probably hours already, and he just couldn't fall asleep. It was probably partly because of the fact that he had been sleeping in his father's room earlier. But mostly t was because there were at least million things on his mind, most of them about the weird and a little disturbing case his father was investigating.

He had also used a good while thinking about how he would tell his father about the whole going to see a therapist -thing. Part of him hoped Melissa would do him a favor and tell Noah because she knew him well, and knew how he would react to that kind of things. Another part of him just knew Melissa wouldn't do something like that, and just like Scott, she'd make him go through it himself because they were both certain it was the only way for him to learn to live with his fears or something else as stupid as that.

With an annoyed sigh, Stiles swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He knew Scott and Melissa were right about the whole facing his own problems himself and all, but he didn't want them to be right about it. Facing his problems was so… uncomfortable. But he knew he had to do it because otherwise, his father would never know about any of the things he had told Melissa about.

With heavy steps, Stiles made his way back to Noah's room, where Noah was still reading the reports papers. A confused frown made its way to Stiles' face; he thought Noah was supposed to not think about the case until he'd get out of the hospital.

"Dad?"

Noah glanced over his shoulder at Stiles and smiled warmly. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

Stiles shrugged as he walked over to his father and sat next to him on the white, way too hard bed. "I didn't really sleep," he mumbled. "Have you been reading those since I left?"

"I had coffee at one point," Noah muttered, eyeing the papers as he spoke.

Stiles glanced past his father at the small table next to the bed where a white, still very full coffee cup was sitting at and shook his head with an amused smile. "Was the coffee any good?" he asked and shifted his gaze back to Noah.

"Nah."

"Would've probably been better if you had drunk it, dad."

Noah furrowed and turned to look at the coffee cup, then let out a short laugh. "Didn't even realize I didn't drink it," he mumbled, probably more to himself than to Stiles.

Stiles gently grabbed the papers from his father's lose grip, and placed them on the table before hopping off the bed. "You need rest, dad," he said with a serious tone. "Reading reports and thinking about a murder case is the last thing on your to-do -list right now."

"Yeah, you're right," Noah admitted after a short moment of probably wondering if he had the energy to disagree; Stiles was an awfully hard person to disagree with.

Noah laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment before he sat back up and turned to Stiles. "You really think Lydia has something to do with the murders?"

Stiles chuckled quietly and took a seat on the chair he had been sleeping on before. "You read my notes, huh? Well, as you always say, if someone's linked to more than two of the crime scenes, there's something going on," he told his father as he lifted his legs up on the edge of the chair and wrapped his arms around them so they wouldn't immediately fall off; it was a rather small chair. "I'm surprised you didn't mark her as a suspect."

"I was going to," Noah said and took a glance at the papers, "but she's such a young, sweet girl. I don't want to believe that he would have something to do with this kind of murders."

"Yeah, me neither."

They sat in silence for a while, and Noah slowly returned to lay on his back. Anxiety was once again building up inside of Stiles. He knew that the longer he waited the harder it would be, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it. He really didn't know why it was so damn hard, and what he was so scared about. His father knew about most of his problems anyway. He had seen a therapist in the past. It really shouldn't have been such a huge problem.

Stiles tried breathing slowly like he had done earlier with Scott, and it managed to calm him down a little. Just a little.

"Dad," he quietly said, his eyes glued to the floor.

"Yeah?" Noah asked. "Is everything okay?"

Stiles let out a humorless laugh and sighed right after. "I need to tell you something," he mumbled, not anywhere near brave enough to raise his eyes to his father.


	7. The locker room

"I can't believe you thought I was gonna yell at you," Noah said in a bit of a frustrated tone. He was pacing in circles around the hospital room while Stiles was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window feeling a lot less anxious than he had thought he'd feel. "I mean for god's sake Stiles, why on earth would I be mad at you?"

"Well you don't sound exactly happy right now, pops," Stiles mumbled, then let out a short, nervous laugh as he turned to look at his father.

Noah stopped in his tracks to give Stiles a serious look. "Of course I'm not happy! I just found out my son has hallucinations! I don't believe anybody's exactly happy when something like that comes around," Noah said as he once again walked around the room. Stiles watched as he let out a sigh, looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then walked up to the chair next to the bed and took a seat.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Noah asked, his eyes, once again, so tired it made Stiles' heart ache.

"I told you," Stiles mumbled with a sigh, "I was afraid you'd get mad."

It was still a mystery to Stiles why his dad hadn't yelled at him, even a little bit. At the same time, Stiles wasn't even sure why he had expected for his dad to yell at all. Noah never yelled at him. Noah hadn't yelled even when Stiles had accidentally fired a handgun after Noah had left him all by himself at the sheriff's station for like ten seconds.

As Stiles lowered his eyes to the floor, Noah walked over and without a word wrapped his arms around Stiles. The sudden embrace made Stiles' heart jump, and sent him to a rapid rollercoaster of emotions; faster than light he went through so many emotions from being a little scared to wanting to cry his eyes out, that they all mixed into a big pile of anxiousness, but fortunately he was quickly able to settle down to warm bubbly happiness. His father was there for him, always had been and always would be. He couldn't believe he had thought Noah would get mad at him for something like this.

"So," Noah sighed, and Stiles could hear how he was fighting back tears. It was rare for Noah to cry, but more than often he got emotional like this; clearly blinking back tears and swallowing down the urge to cry, trying to stay tough for Stiles. "We should probably start searching for the right therapist for you, right?" Noah asked with a half a smile.

"Yeah, we should."

* * *

The next day at school Stiles found it extremely difficult to focus on the teacher talking in front of the class. Well, he always did, but now it was like ten times more difficult than usual. His mind was wandering more than usual, racing back and forth between the murder investigation, his father and the fact that they had spent the rest of last night trying to find a therapist who seems like a good match to Stiles.

"C'mon Stiles," Danny said and patted Stiles' upper back before he got up from the wooden bench in the boys' locker room. "Time to wake up."

Stiles straightened his back with a sigh. Danny was right. He needed to clear his head so he could concentrate on their lacrosse practice because there was a big game coming Saturday and he seriously needed the practice. Stiles knew he'd probably sit on the bench for the whole game, but every time he had been absolutely sure he wouldn't be allowed to play, something had happened and he had been thrown on the field completely unprepared. So, he had learned that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Especially because of Jackson, their team captain, the coach's pet and every girl's wet dream. Jackson was the type of guy who just had to be the best at everything; he had to be the best looking, the best player, the most popular. And truth to be told, he kind of was. Stiles was the opposite of that; he wasn't popular at all, he sucked at lacrosse and, well, he didn't look horrible but he knew there were prettier fishes in the sea. And that if something made Jackson see all shades of red. So, whenever there was a reason for Jackson to get mad at Stiles, even the tiniest, most idiotic reason ever, he was sure to grab the chance and yell at Stiles. Being bad at lacrosse was one of Jackson's favorite things to yell at Stiles about.

And there Jackson was, standing across the locker room with Isaac, both of them laughing at something with their arms crossed over their chests. It was always weird to see them together even though they had been practically inseparable since their freshman year. They just didn't look like they'd get along. Jackson was a guy who drove his dad's Porsche had jawbones so sharp he probably sliced his bread with them, and he only talked to the rich kids at school. Isaac, on the other hand, looked like a little cuddly teddy bear with his curly hair and wide smile, and Stiles knew for a fact that he wasn't one of the rich kids. And still, they were always together, always whispering to each other and exchanging meaningful looks.

Jackson happened to glance at Stiles' direction, and his smile faded immediately. Stiles watched as Isaac leaned closer to Jackson and whispered something that lit up Jackson's eyes and made his jaw tighten. If Stiles hadn't guessed that Isaac was talking about him before, he sure did now when Jackson turned his deadly glare at him.

"Danny!" Stiles practically jumped up from the bench he was sitting on, grabbed his lacrosse stick and ran after Danny. "Danny help me please," he asked out of breath after reaching his friend.

Danny gave him a quick, rather confused look. "With what?"

"Jackson's mad at me," Stiles mumbled. He looked over his shoulder and saw Jackson and Isaac walk out to the field, too.

"What did you do?" Danny asked with a serious face, looking almost as fed up as Jackson had looked. The difference was that Jackson had looked like he wanted to kill Stiles, Danny just looked like he wanted to smack the back of his head to simply put some sense in him.

They sat down next to their teammates on the green grass of the field. Stiles straightened his left leg and tried to desperately reach his toes with his fingers, but it felt like his shin was going to snap in half if he wouldn't stop soon.

"I didn't do anything," Stiles mumbled, trying his best to not constantly peek at Jackson, who was, in fact, staring right at him. "Just please, make sure I don't die today, alright?"

"Can't promise you anything," Danny told him with a smirk, and on top of it, he laughed.

They both glanced at Jackson.

" _Jesus_ , what did you do?" Danny repeated his question before turning his eyes back to Stiles. "I haven't seen him look that pissed after you fucked up at the final last year."

"We agreed to never speak of it again," Stiles quickly snapped.

But Danny was right. Even though Jackson was always kind of mad at Stiles, and always ready to blame Stiles for everything, he wasn't really angry. The only time Jackson had actually been angry had been last year at the big final, the most important game of the year. Someone had, for some reason, passed the ball to Stiles.

First, it had taken him a slow second to realize he actually had the ball, and in lacrosse time, a second was like an hour of normal time. Then, he had almost run the wrong way, but in the nick of time he had turned on his heels and ran the right way. Everyone had screamed at him to pass the ball, everyone had known he wouldn't be able to score on his own, and he had known it for himself, too. But just as he had raised his stick to pass the ball to Jackson, he had tripped on his own feet and landed face first on the wet grass.

Jackson had immediately thrown his lacrosse stick away and launched himself at Stiles, but the opposite team's guys had - thank god - ran between them and stopped Jackson, because if they hadn't, Stiles would've probably ended up in hospital.

* * *

The practice went like it usually did. Stiles got to play for like fifteen minutes before he, once again, tripped over something and almost broke his neck diving head first to the ground. After that, coach benched him for the rest of the time "just to keep anyone from dying.

Stiles had just waved goodbye to Danny and now turned his attention back to the lacrosse stick in his hands. He had thought about quitting a lot of times. He had even thrown his equipment away once, but he had felt so bad about it later that he had sneaked out to dig them out of the dumpster in the middle of the night. It was probably because of his dad that he couldn't quit. Noah had always been so proud of Stiles; always came to see his games and rooted for him even though Stiles nearly never played.

With a heavy sigh, Stiles put the lacrosse stick away from his hands so he could take off his shirt. He had waited for everyone to leave so he could take a shower. One of the things he hated the most, was undressing in front of other people. And, of course, having to take a shower with others. He had been forced to do it a few times and it had been absolutely awful.

He got up from the bench and picked up a grey shirt from his locker. As he was about to undress his shorts, he heard steps coming from the locker room door, along with two voices whispering to each other.

"So the sheriff's still at the hospital?"

"Still. But they'll probably let him leave soon, I wouldn't worry about him."

Stiles held his breath and tried to hear better; were they talking about his father? The voices were both familiar.

"I'm actually worried that he'll get out too soon. The full moon's only a few nights away and we don't need any more blood spilled."

"I heard they put the investigation on freeze."

"Great. Then all we have to worry about it Stilinski."

Stiles clung to his shirt like his life depended on it while shivers ran down his spine. They said his name, they were talking about him. His heart was pounding like he had just run up a five-storied high-rise.

"He's been talking to Lydia. She says she didn't tell him anything, but I don't believe her. His scent was all over her bed."

"Don't worry about it. I'll handle Stilinski."


	8. The white lie

Stiles' heart had never beaten like that. With every single beat, his body trembled a bit harder, his field of view was getting blurry and he couldn't think straight anymore. What if they'd find him there? Would they be mad? Why did they talk about the full moon? What did they know? The footsteps approached alarmingly, and Stiles was desperately trying to come up with a place to hide. The locker. Could he fit in the locker? He doubted it, but judging by how close the two boys' sounds were, he had no time to think about anything else.

He stuffed himself inside his locker and closed the door as quietly as he could. It still made a sound way too loud, and he knew the guys heard it; it was impossible not to since the lockers were made of steel, and Stiles felt like even his breathing echoed in the empty locker room, and the sounds made by steel lockers were definitely louder than Stiles' breathing.

The cold walls of the locker were smushing Stiles' shoulders, forcing him to stand in a position so uncomfortable he hadn't even realized he could feel so trapped and so… claustrophobic. The position he had to squeeze himself made it also feel like something was pushing his chest down, making it extremely hard to breathe. In addition to all that, his heart rate was rapidly climbing up and he felt a huge panic attack slowly creeping in. This wasn't even the first time he was hiding from Jackson, he had been doing it every now and then since first grade, but this was different. This time there was also Isaac, and this time Stiles wasn't hiding because he had laughed at Jackson for tripping on the football field. This time Stiles was hiding because they had talked about him, his father and the murder case his father was investigating. And that was terrifying as hell.

Suddenly Stiles realized he couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. He couldn't hear anything besides his own breathing, actually. But before he had the time to decide whether he should peek out to check if he was alone again, the locker's door was ripped open with a bang so loud the sound rang in Stiles' ears for a moment.

"Well look who we found here."

Stiles' eyes met with Jackson's cold blue ones, and he managed to see the small, satisfied smile on Jackson's lips before Jackson grabbed him by the neckline of his shirt and forcefully pulled him out of the locker. Right after Stiles had been forced out of the inhuman position he had had to smush himself in, Jackson pushed him against the next locker's door and leaned so close that he could feel his hot breath on his face.

"You really picked the wrong time to peep around the boy's locker room," Jackson told him between gritted teeth, and despite the extremely threatening tone in his voice, it made Stiles want to burst into laughter. He couldn't believe that in a situation like this, after he had hid in a freaking closet of steel while Jackson and Isaac had talked about how they were going to handle him, Jackson decided to make a gay joke.

"You're right you know, I was expecting to see someone who's actually good looking," Stiles mumbled, forcing himself to keep eye contact with Jackson even though he was a little afraid he might wet himself. It wasn't probably the best idea to be a smart mouth while pinned between a locker room door and a very angry Jackson, but he simply couldn't control himself.

"You need to learn to shut up," Jackson hissed as he leaned even closer to Stiles.

Stiles tried to keep himself under control. He tried to keep his mouth shut. Even if it had been a matter of life and death, which it probably was judging by the flames in Jackson's eyes, he wouldn't have been able to hold his tongue.

"I suggest you learn too."

Jackson pulled him away from the locker's door, just to push him back against it right away with so much force all air escaped Stiles' lungs and he hit the back of his head against the steel door.

"If I was you," Jackson forced Stiles to get up on his toes by lifting him from the front of his shirt, "I'd really consider my words more carefully."

Stiles couldn't concentrate on Jackson's words enough to be actually scared. He was still coughing and gasping for air while trying to stay on his toes, and the bang from hitting his head was still ringing in his ears.

"Jackson," Isaac quietly said and took a step closer, but Jackson immediately ordered him to back off.

"I know why you're here, and I know what you've been doing," Jackson hissed, and Stiles could've sworn he saw Jackson's eyes flicker from blue to golden brown and back to blue again. "And if you don't want to join your dad at the hospital, I suggest you back the fuck off." Stiles expected at least to be punched in the face, but instead, Jackson let go of his shirt and took a step back.

"You go ahead," Isaac said to Jackson with a smug grin on his face. Jackson let out a short laugh before he left Stiles and Isaac alone in the locker room.

Stiles' legs were shaking as Isaac walked closer to him, and his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it at the tips of his fingers.

"Stiles, Stiles, Stiles," Isaac chuckled quietly, and he looked a little insane while doing so. "You really have to back off, if you don't wanna get hurt." He leaned against the locker's door with his other hand, eyes fixed on Stiles' eyes, so close to Stiles' face that Stiles was afraid to blink. "And leave Lydia alone."

* * *

Stiles stared into his bowl of cereal, not able to move a single muscle. His thoughts were racing so fast he hardly managed to keep up with them. He still had no idea what the hell had happened earlier at the locker room, but he did know that if he hadn't been afraid of Jackson before, he was now. He was very, extremely scared of him. But even though Isaac had threatened him too, it hadn't felt as threatening. It had felt like Isaac had actually tried to warn him so that he could stay safe. Did Isaac, somewhere deep inside of him, care about Stiles? Stiles didn't believe it was possible.

"Stiles?" Stiles raised his eyes to Scott who took a seat beside him. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles lied so easily it scared him a bit. He didn't usually lie to Scott, but he knew Scott had no interest in Noah's investigation and that Scott hated the fact Stiles was so into it. Telling about the little incident with Jackson and Isaac would have benefitted no one. "Just tired."

Scott didn't seem to buy it, but thank god he stayed quiet about it. Scott usually had an annoying habit of pointing out every white lie that escaped Stiles' lips, and Stiles absolutely hated it, and it usually just pissed Stiles off and they ended up screaming in each other's faces. And since Stiles was already in a kind of a sad, unsteady mood, he definitely would've exploded. But fo some reason, even though Scott didn't want to hear it and Stiles didn't want to talk about it, Stiles still felt like he should. So, he took a deep breath.

"I think Jackson threatened to kill me today," he let the words roll out of his mouth with such speed even he had trouble understanding.

"What?"

"Well not exactly kill me, but he did say I'd end up in hospital."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

Scott's eyes bore so deep in Stiles' eyes it made Stiles want to run away, and he lowered his head with a sigh. Of course Scott knew he was lying.

"He found me hiding in my locker at the boys' locker room," he quietly admitted, and could basically hear Scott rolling eyes at him. "But I was there first, and I panicked when they came and I just.. kind of… squeezed myself into my locker but they found me."

"I know you don't like Jackson, and that he screams at you a lot, but you could've just left."

"Well I heard them talking about me and dad and the murders and I panicked. I'm sorry my anxious brain didn't- "

"Wait, what?" Scott cut him off with a confused frown on his face. "Why- what did they say?"

Once again, Stiles took a deep breath. He couldn't believe Scott actually wanted to know more about it, but since he did, Stiles wasn't going to hold himself back on this. He told Scott everything. He told about how Jackson and Isaac had glared at him before the practice. He told about how the guys had talked about the full moon, the investigation, and how they had known his father was still in hospital. He told about how Jackson had said something about how they didn't need any more blood spilled, which now that he really thought about it, sounded very disturbing just like when Isaac had said that he'd take care of Stiles.

Scott let him talk in peace, only nodding and frowning every now and then. But when Stiles finished his story, he had absolutely no idea what Scott was thinking about it all. There was a weird look on Scott's face; like he didn't know what to believe and what not to, and Stiles was scared Scott was thinking he had made the whole thing up.

"Well, everybody knows about the murders at this point. Everybody also knows that sheriff's in hospital at the moment," Scott said slowly, looking like he was still trying to collect his thoughts, and with every word, Stiles' heart broke a little more. His best friend didn't believe him. "But it's a bit weird that they'd talk about the full moon and taking care of you."

"And the blood thing, right?" Stiles reminded Scott. "The blood thing is extremely weird if you ask me." Scott gave him an approving nod. "And that's why you just can't wait to solve this thing with me!"

"Believe me, I have no problems staying home and letting your dad do his work."

"C'mon Scot, please. It's seriously weird that they talked about those things, and-

"I know, Stiles," Scott angrily cut him off, "and that's why you have to stay out of it. I don't believe they're involved in the case in any way, but if they are, you need to stay away from them."


End file.
